Express Myself- a collection of short poems

Blank

Blank faces, blank minds

Other people often look like,

they're of the robotic kind

They tell me to shut up,

 To not talk anymore,

to just shut off my core

I'm called weird and a freak,

even though I want to own it,

I can't make a peep.

The sky becomes heavy at my back,

as the pressure forces me to crack,

I feel as if my creativity dwindles,

while my brain is still unkindled

They're looking at me,

too expectantly.